


i’m sorry that you saw me when i lost my way

by thispapermoon



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: Ada is...Ada, Dimity Drill is the Star of the Sky, Drill x Mould if you want it to be, Esme is too good for this world, Ethel is Ethel but it kinda sucks to be Ethel, F/F, Hecate Hardbroom needs a hug, Pippa Pentangle is a pent-angel, Pre-airing of Season 2 Finale wish fulfillment, Slight New Dawn fix-it, Sybil is only small and deserves the world, The founding stone is a rock, Two witches in love, and you probably want it to be, tries to stick with canon but plays with magic rules a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 07:17:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14100201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thispapermoon/pseuds/thispapermoon
Summary: Sybil squeaks and clings to her sister’s side, but at Hecate’s severe look and Esmerelda’s gentle cajoling, moves to join her fellow first years, glancing back over her shoulder as she goes.They’re so small, she thinks, and wonders why this suddenly scares her. Why everything suddenly scares her. Students in her care and she cannot protect them. For the first time ever is made uselessness and inept by loss of skill rather than control.Once a master now a fool.****The light of the Founding Stone goes out. Hecate loses her magic. Can she save the students, save the school, save herself before it's all too late?





	i’m sorry that you saw me when i lost my way

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Season 2 Finale Eve, lovely witches! 
> 
> dismantledrose (CCNSurvivor) and I have been shouting at each other quite a bit about the season finale and this is my ultimate fantasy for what I want to go down - though it's gonna get busted to pieces tomorrow, I'm sure. But for tonight, for this one night, let me have my lil dream. 
> 
> Shout out to foxx-queen (littlelamplight) for sparking one of the moments in this fic - more notes at the end cause, spoilers :) 
> 
> Title from the Bleacher's song I Miss Those Days.

She feels it the moment before it happens. A cold, creeping void that tangles around her magic and pries it from her fingertips. The fire snuffs out.

But it _can’t_ be. Not since she was a small girl has any spell disobeyed her command. She harnesses her powers completely, hardly any witch can match her record for perfect casts. And now? Now the room is dark and the girls are staring at her wide eyed. And suddenly her magic feels _wrong_ , hollow, and distant, and not entirely _hers_ any longer.

And then it’s is spooling out of her, leaving a cold, cold shadow in its stead. A phantom limb where magic once was, the loss of something intrinsic to her. Gone between one clock tick and the next as the room looks silently on. She can hardly breath for fear, but must breath, must keep her useless hands steady and her face controlled as her magic drains from her like lifeblood.

Beside her Ada gasps, and she knows, knows without turning that the throughout the room power is bleeding from each teacher, from each student, as if sucked by some dark, insidious privation. There are murmurs and gasps and a few girls begin to cry.

And it’s then she knows.

“What. Has been done. To The Founding Stone.” Her voice is low but echoes through the room nonetheless as the girls stand petrified and helpless.

All goes nearly silent as Esmeralda Hallow steps forward, trembling.

“I had to - I had to Miss Hardbroom. I asked the Stone to share its powers with me  - I didn’t know it would drain it completely, I swear. It was in a trunk up in the tower. And Sybil was out on the roof - she was falling, barely hanging on - one more moment and she would have, she would have -” She breaks off, tears spilling down her cheeks, Sybil tucked securely into her side.

“And why didn’t you didn’t call for a teacher?” Fear turns her words deadly slow, drawn out darkly, hardly a whisper.

“There wasn’t time, Miss Hardbroom. Sybil - she was seconds away from falling to her death. I tried to leave the room to get help, but I was blocked by a spell, I couldn’t get out. And anyway you were under a love spell and - and Miss Cackle - well, I’m never sure where she is whenever -” Esmeralda’s voice comes out a rougher than she’s ever thought the girl’s could and hot shame floods her stomach. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to -” The girl’s face crumples, glancing at Ada in dismay, but Hecate waves her fingers - her non-magical fingers - to dismiss the apology.  

“The Stone was secured away where no student can reach it. How did you come by it?”

Hesitating, Esmeralda bites her lip and releases her sister in favor of anxiously twisting her hands together. “I don’t know - it was up in the tower with me - it was just sitting there, right there, in an old trunk. I think the Stone you found earlier this year might have been a fake.”

Lungs burning with the effort to remain calm, Hecate glances at Ada, but her eyes are glassy and wounded, too appalled, Hecate realizes, to assist with the line of questioning that is essential for any hope of resolution. The aching absence left by her extinguished magic pulses instead into a sharp pain within her temples, and she swallows tightly, mind racing.

“And how did you determine the spell to take the power of the Stone? It is essential we know.”

Esmeralda's eyes drop and her fingers twirl more tightly together. “I made it up, Miss Hardbroom.”

“Witches don’t _make up_ spells,” she grinds out, simultaneously pushing down the image of a blond witch with pink lips that flashes through her mind unbidden. “How did you take the Stone’s power.”

But Esmeralda only looks more horrified and shakes her head, lips pressed tightly together, tears streaming down her face.

There’s a motion in the dim light behind Esmeralda and Ethel steps forward, her pale face stoney.

“I did it, Miss Hardbroom. I stole the founding Stone and swapped it out with a duplicate.”

Ada gasps again, betrayal heavy her voice. “But _why_ , Ethel?”

“I _had_ to _,_ Miss Cackle. I honestly didn’t think it would work. I thought for sure you or Miss Hardbroom would notice.” The shame that’s been roiling in her stomach intensifies and she pushes her fingernails into the skin of her palm as Ethel continues. “I had to try though. I had to get Esme’s powers back so everything, _everything_ could go back to the way it was before.” Her voice rises and rises with each word. “I _had_ to do it.”

There is silence in the hall again and she feels Ada shifting nervously beside her, waits for Ada to speak, to act, to lead.

When the silence builds to a breaking point, she breathes in sharply through her nose and straightens her spine. “Girls.” Her voice retains authority though the powerlessness she feels without her magic is heightened by every moment of its absence. “You will return to your rooms and stay there until further notice. You will not attempt to use magic. You will not leave under any circumstances or risk expulsion.” They stand dumbly still for a moment more and then break, moving as a swarm towards the doors, muttering and whispering.  Grimacing, she takes a moment to feel sickly glad that even without her magic they feel fearful enough of her to respond to her bidding without question.

“Ethel, Esmerelda, you will stay.”

Sybil squeaks and clings to her sister’s side, but at Hecate’s severe look and Esmerelda’s gentle cajoling, moves to join her fellow first years, glancing back over her shoulder as she goes. _They’re so small_ , she thinks, and wonders why this suddenly scares her. Why everything suddenly scares her. Students in her care and she cannot protect them. For the first time ever is made uselessness and inept by loss of skill rather than control. _Once a master now a fool._

“Miss Mould, Miss Bat, please patrol the corridors. Curfew is now in effect for all girls. Any girl in violation should be brought to Miss Cackle’s office at once.” The two women nod and trail out after the students, whispering quietly together.

“Miss Drill, please assess if your broom still has the capacity for flight and if so, alert the magic council. As much as I do not wish to spread the news of this _incident,_ ” she passes her eyes over Ethel who hangs her head, “it is best that we receive assistance immediately. And if all brooms have been rendered useless, I dare say you will need to walk to the village and take a _bus._ ” The word feels distasteful against her tongue, but Dimity gives a sharp nod and makes for the door.

“Ethel Hallow. You will accompany Miss Cackle and myself to the library where you will show us _exactly_ how you discovered the means with with to drain a Founding Stone. Esmerelda, you will join us.”

There’s a creeping sensation down the back of her neck and she forces herself not to shiver, suddenly feeling sick and weak. It only lasts a moment before dissolving into sharp fear as the castle floor suddenly shakes and undulates beneath them. In the distance, the girls are shrieking over a series of loud bangs and Dimity’s face reappears in the doorway, rosy cheeks pale and smiling mouth drawn down in distress.

“You lot best get out here and make it quick.”

Hecate raises her hand to transfer, illness coursing through her once again when nothing happens. _Fool. Fool!_

“Mister Webb, perhaps it would be best instead if you were to escort the Hallow Sisters to your classroom and wait with them until we return.”

She makes for the door but Ada stands frozen, staring at the Hallows. “Ada.” Her tone leaves no room to be ignored and the headmistress snaps to, casting an apprehensive glance at them before hurrying to Hecate’s side.

They make it to the corridor only to see blue smoke billowing out from the direction of the potions lab as more bangs rock the castle. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Miss Mould and Miss Bat struggling to herd the terrified girls up the stairs, but is helpless to assist, as beakers and vials explode out from the classroom and zoom down the hall, sloping potions and causing small explosions in their wake.

Reams of student papers and maglets careen through the air. They bounce off the stones and slam into potions before erupting into showers of sparks, while school brooms barrel down the hall to meet them. Mister Webb is nearly skewered as he attempts to make it past with Ethel and Esmeralda behind him, their faces masked in horror. Hecate throws out an arm to halt him and he stumbles back.

“Miss Mould, Miss Bat - get those girls upstairs this instant - Miss Drill, now’s your chance. Go, _go._ ” Dimity nods and vaults onto a passing broom, hanging tight as it tries to buck her. She struggles with it for a moment before winning control, only to have to duck and dodge the detonating bottles that wizz and spin around her. _“Go_ ,” Hecate urges, more out of a desperate hope for success than any form of a command, and Dimity swoops into a corkscrew and shoots out the open window, a few vials and rustling papers giving chase behind her.

“Star of the Sky,” Mister Webb murmurs from her shoulder and she brusquely shoves down her own flicker of admiration in favor of glaring at him instead. “Mister Webb, take these girls and do as you’re _told_.” He sheepishly nods and places his hands on the shoulder of each Hallow, pushing them down into a duck so that they can break across the hallway to the safety of the classroom beyond.

There’s another rumble under the castle stones and she swallows bile as it rises in her throat, fingers pinching at Ada’s sleeve as she hauls her back into the blessedly projectile free great hall once more.

“Ada, we must find a way to reverse this spell.” She breaths, fingers clenching and unclenching by her side, naked without the crackle of magic between her fingertips.  

“Oh Hecate,” Ada looks up at her tremulously, eyes anxious and wet. “Magic will never work here, ever again.”

“You mustn't think like that. Think about the school - think about the _girls_. There has to be a way.”

But Ada only hangs her head and brings a shaking hand to her lips. “Perhaps the board was right, perhaps I am unfit -”

“Hardly the case. There’s no time to think about that now - there are potions flying down the halls, brooms like javelins - Ada, you mustn’t give up, there must be a way to reverse - “

“Don’t you see though, Hecate. The Stone _is_ the magic of this school, without it we - we cannot perform a reversal spell. Without it we are _nothing_ . Not without the power of the Stone.” Her voice trembles around tears. “We should send the girls home tonight. This school is ruined - _I_ am ruined. ”

It feels like there’s a heavy pressure on her lungs and Hecate blinks a bit, trying to steady herself.

“Ada, think of the girls - if we are able to procure a solution now, when help arrives we can restore the school and return the girls their powers. In the meantime, we _must_ keep them safe.” Panic claws at her insides, drawing black dots against her vision as Ada sags down into herself, retreating further into misery and Hecate cannot reach her, try as she might.

“Ada, _please_.” It’s a whisper, a plea. She feels something desperate move inside her, a fear that has nothing to do with the loss of magic. “ _Please_.”

“I suppose,” Ada whispers back, voice weepy, “that they were right. You would make a better headmistress than me. I’ve only been holding you back. And now there’s no hope of saving the school. It’s all gone so terribly, terribly wrong.” Her fingers move to her cardigan pocket and produce a handkerchief, which she dabs at her eyes with before twisting round her fingers. “The parents will be very angry this time, I fear. There’s nothing to be done. You’ll see to the girls, won’t you, Hecate?”

Hecate stares at her, something inside her further breaking, icy and hot at the same time, burning and freezing down her throat.  

“The girls need you, Ada.” She whispers, heart stuttering in her chest.

But Ada shakes her head and pats Hecate’s arm. “I suppose I must go pack. They’ll want blood, Hecate. Cackle blood. It’s only right that I’m ready for the consequences and appease them.”

She turns and Hecate closes her eyes, squeezing them tightly until she hears the door swing shut behind her.

And then she is alone.

_____

She takes refuge in the library, armed with the name a single book after grilling Ethel in her most intimidating Deputy Head Voice. She’d leaned in close and breathed through her nose, hissing her demands for information until Ethel gave over the volume’s name. It had taken less than she anticipated, Ethel more withdrawal than defiant, trembling and white-faced. Through her anger Hecate had briefly itched to conjure the child - responsible for this mess as she was - a cup of tea. But her fingers had found only air before the thought could even fully form. She’d pulled back, tamping down nausea at the realization that she wouldn’t even know how to make a proper cup without magic. _Useless. Useless fool._

So she sits at a table between the high shelves the as the night draws up around the windows, the bangs and bursts from the entry hall the only sound for company. For the castle is unnaturally silent. And Hecate shudders at the realization that she’s always had a hum of magic running through her veins, ever present, ever comforting. Gone now. Gone.

She’d never considered it, outside of a Section Seven, she realizes as she reads the page with Ethel’s spell for what has to be the hundredth time, searching for any clue of a reversal. Never considered that she could ever be without magic. Always believed that magic was something so intrinsic, so inherent to her very being that to have it be split asunder was to cease to exist entirely. Never considered it, not really. That is until her star pupil - the most talented witch to ever sit in Hecate’s classroom - had been stripped of her own magic and rendered merely - well - merely _human_ as a result.

But here she is.

Blood pounding in hot terror through her heart. Lungs constricting with each shuddering breath expelled. Flesh cold and clammy.

Her still beating heart. Her still breathing lungs. Her still un-maimed flesh.

She _is_ maimed though, she decides, flipping to the indexes and running a darkly-painted nail down the page. Maimed, and impotent, without worth. Without value. Without purpose.

Esmeralda stripped of her magic, of her natural ability - an ability powerful enough to rival to Hecate’s in her youth - had still been kind. Had still been _good._ Had still been so much better with friends and the students alike.

And Hecate Hardbroom stripped of magic? _As brittle and friendless as you’ve ever been._

And she realizes it now, reels from the revelation, that Esme’s kindness never made her less of a witch. She’d somehow, brilliantly, managed both. Like _Pippa_.

She nearly convulses with the weight of how barren she suddenly feels. Exposed and naked. _Let them come for me instead_ , she almost thinks. But it hardly matters. There are enough parents from her own school days that she hardly thinks they’ll stop at Ada. Knows they will come for her too. Knows they’ll make her crawl, eager to feast upon her humiliation, thirsting to watch her beg for mercy.

She thinking again suddenly of Pippa. Of standing behind Pippa in the schoolyard as their classmates leered and taunted. Thinks of Pippa, fierce and fiery, back straight and hair ribbons waving in the breeze as she faced them all down. Protective, defiant, without a thought to her own reputation, small fists curled, magic sparking.

_Pippa._

It hurts more than it should. Always hurts more than it should where Pippa is concerned. She tries to imagine what Pippa will think when she hears the news. But somehow she just can’t bare to conjure the image of abject disgust that will surely grace Pippa’s beautiful face upon learning what harm Hecate has allowed to come to the young witches in her care.

But, funnily, all she can manage to imagine at present is Pippa’s deep brown eyes, soft and warm. Her brow furrowed in concern. Her smile gentle and patient.

She’s so wrung out that she imagines she sees her, leaning against the bookcase right before her, arms folded around her middle.

She nearly unseats herself when the vision speaks.

“Hello, there Hiccup.”

Pippa moves from the bookshelf and comes around to sit at the table beside her as Hecate stares. And stares. And -

“You can’t be here.” _Fear_ \- hotter and fiercer than anything she’s felt for herself thus far - flares to life within her and she’s on her feet in an instant, gripping Pippa’s elbow, trying to tow her back onto her feet.

“Get of here - now - get _away from here_.”

Pippa looks shocked. Hurt. Horrified. It’s an expression Hecate’s caused to cross her face before, decades ago, but it still slices through her heart all these years later now for different reasons.

Pippa opens her mouth, surely to object, but Hecate cuts her off, frantic and undignified and closer to tears than she’s been in an age. “No, you can’t be here, you have to go. _Pippa_ , your powers - they’ll - they’ll -” Her knees have gone like water and she sways, black dots swarming in her vision once again, blotting Pippa nearly out.

She feels Pippa’s hands move to her elbows and struggles uselessly against her as she’s lowered back into the chair.

“No,” she moans, stomach pounding, head splitting, “Please, you need to get out of here.”

But Pippa simply takes her hands and squeezes. “The Magic Council sent me.”

It’s enough to snap her into focus, and Hecate gasps. “You? They sent _you?_ ” Pippa frowns, looking slightly offended, but Hecate rushes on, irate, “They’re putting _you_ at _risk._ Pippa’s it’s not safe here - your magic - “

“Yes, I know, I know. My magic.” She smiles a little at Hecate and releases one of her arms to flicks her wrist, a glass of water appearing on the table before them. “Funny thing, my magic.”

Hecate gapes at her. Something deep and filled with longing buzzing within her at the sight of magic, and at perhaps, at the feel of Pippa’s hand returning to hers.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” She says slowly, stiffening. The void where her magic should be aches within her.

Pippa hums a bit and rubs her fingers over her own and Hecate feels a flush of warmth, almost like magic, but she’s not quite sure. It makes her feel unbalanced. Pippa warm, and  _here_ , and smiling, when all she is is wrung out, and hollowed out, and - well - _ordinary_.

“Hecate, what happens when you fly your broom?”

She frowns deeply. “I hardly know why you’re asking that -”

“Well you simply don’t fall out of the _sky_ halfway through your journey do you? You travel far beyond the radius of any Founding Stone’s power for most journey you could ever think to make. And you don’t need a _Founding Stone_ in order to see iridescent night bloomers down in Himshaw Gorge on midsummer's do you? Or to catch out a forest sprite on a trip to Munching’s Glen?”

At her baffled expression Pippa laughs and little and pulls her hands so that they’re cradled in her lap.

“Darling, Hiccup. Sometimes an object only has power if you _believe_ it has power, and thus _give_ it power. It’s almost like a spell, really, the way the magic in this castle is reacting to everyone’s fear.” She cocks her head a little. “But particularly yours, I think. Dimity said that the trouble didn’t start until you tried to cast the Fire Spell and it fizzled out on you.” At Hecate’s flush she squeezes her hands a little tighter. “How dreadful for you, I’m sure, but not the end of Cackle’s to be certain.”

“The Founding Stone,” says Hecate, slowly, enoucinging every word ever so precisely, “is what makes a magical school magical. Surely you know that as the _founder_ of your own school, Pippa.”

“It’s what makes a school magical? Not the students? Not the teachers?” Pippa sighs but remains smiling at her, thumb brushing her own in a way that makes her feel like flames are licking at her insides. “Pentangle’s doesn’t have a Founding Stone, you know.” Her eyes glint with amusement. “Would you really think me all that old fashioned?”

“No Founding Stone?” It’s seems hardly reasonable at all that any school could be without and she stares at Pippa bemused. “Then how - how - can you possibly run a _magical_ _school_ without such a container of power?”

Pippa twines their fingers together and seems to consider her words a great deal before she replies. “Your magic has always felt like a part of you, hasn’t it? Like air? Like breathing?”

Hecate ducks a nod which Pippa mirrors. “Sometimes - sometimes something can seem innate to you, but it can be tied up in something else, it can make you believe that without that one thing - that thing you think is a piece of you - you are nothing.” She looks a little sad and Hecate tries to follow, heart thumping simply from being so close to Pippa. So close to magic.

“I learned that the hard way. You know how our school was, Hecate. Miss Broomhead. Strict by The Code magic. Punishments for failure. Punishments for missteps. I think you learned the hard way too. Only we took away opposite lessons.”

She shifts so that they’re even closer, knees almost touching. “If something that feels innate goes away, it can make you feel like you’ll never be anything again - ever mean anything again. Not unless you learn to find that _something_ within yourself, first and foremost.”

“Magic?” Hecate mumbles, confused and feeling more out of her depth by the moment.

“Yes, magic. But I realized that part later. _Love_ , Hecate. I’m talking about love.” At Hecate’s wide eyes, Pippa ducks her head a bit but maintains eye contact. “And I’m talking about you.”

“You?” Hecate repeats awkwardly - foolishly - heart beating, palms suddenly damp against Pippa’s. She draws her hands back and wipes them on her skirt feeling shame bloom within her.

“I don’t understand.”

Pippa takes a deep breath and lets it out, but her eyes stay gentle. She picks up the glass and offers it to Hecate, nodding at her in approval when she accepts it and takes a small sip.

“When you left,” she begins, and Hecate flinches, and Pippa takes the glass back and returns it safely to the table. “When you left, I realized I had always expected you to be in my life. To be there. It was like you were innate to me. Like magic. Like air. Like breathing.”

It’s suddenly very difficult for her lungs to work properly and Hecate digs her nails into the fabric of her skirt.

“I hated myself for a long, long time after. I never knew why exactly you left. Never understood what I did that was so - _so_ \- dreadful that you cut me out of your life, just like that.” Pippa makes a sharp gesture with her fingers and Hecate winces again, fidgeting in silent agony. But Pippa drops her hand and softly links their fingers again, capturing Hecate’s eyes with her own.

“But eventually, I realized that no matter what your reasons, they didn’t change the way I felt about you. Whatever misunderstanding had passed between us, I only wanted to know that you were well. Happy. Safe. I hoped. I realized I would do anything to make you happy, even if it meant staying away. And I realized that that meant I loved you. And through learning that I loved you, it was enough to find that same love within myself. For myself.” She releases one of Hecate’s hands for a moment and brushes at a tear that glimmers for a moment against her lashes.

“You…love….me?” Hecate feels something shifting inside her. Fear rising like a tide only to recede on wave of hope. She tries to draw a breath as both ebb and flow inside her, and Pippa takes her hand back within her own.

“Have for ages. Can’t you tell?”

The hope is winning out, pushing against the fragile balloon of her heart, expanding it with wild and desperate longing. “I - I - never thought,” she whispers. “I never thought that anyone could ever love me.”

Pippa drops her hands and moves them to her face, smoothing her thumbs along flushed cheekbones. “And you never thought you could have magic without a Founding Stone.”

Hecate laughs at that, at the absurdity of it, of how warm her face feels in Pippa’s gentle hands; at herself, magicless and lost, suddenly feeling found.

“Well you can’t, can you?”

Eyes glinting, Pippa shrugs a little flippantly. “Would you like to find out?”

Hecate feels apprehension flood through whatever giddiness Pippa is bringing out within her heart - her still foolish heart - but nods anyway.

“Okay then.” Pippa takes one of her Hecate’s hands and presses it over her heart. She can feel the wild thump beneath her fingertips, beating ever faster the longer she’s in Pippa’s presence. “Close your eyes.” Pippa presses on her hand a little more firmly. “What do you feel?”

“Silly.”

Pippa laughs again but chides her, “Be serious, Hiccup.”

“I’m always serious.”

She can almost feel Pippa roll her eyes and after a moments silence, slyly voices that, which only makes Pippa laugh brightly once more. “That’s a start. Keep going.”

She pauses and tries to breath around the ache below her ribs, the nervous fluttering in her midsection. “I can feel myself breathing.” A paused. “And my heartbeat.”

“Good. More.”

“I can feel the fabric of my dress.”

“And?”

“And? And it’s soft, I know it’s black but I can almost...almost...feel the color of it?” She blushes, feeling absurd. “I feel absurd.”

Another laugh.

“I feel the air in the room. It’s cold. I feel,” she flushes hotter, “I feel your hand on mine. It’s warm.”

Pippa presses her hand again and says very softly, “Go on.”

Squeezing her eyes more tightly shut, Hecate searches for her next observation. Frowns a bit at the niggling _something_ that’s been down within her chest since the moment she first thought about Pippa. Pippa making up spells. Pippa and Esmeralda, Pippa in the schoolyard. _Pippa._

The feeling unfurls within her, catching momentum like kindling, and a pleasant sensation flares through her very being. It chases back the fear, flickering and crackling across her very skin until her free hand twitches, releasing a shower of hot sparks as her eyes fly open.

She’s on her feet in an instant, chair knocked over behind her, staring down at her hands.

“What have you done to me?”

But Pippa’s looking at her with a knowing expression, and the feeling is still coursing through her, strong, and true, and free.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Then what - _what_ \- “ She breaks off at a loss. Quirks her fingers and the chair rights itself without another thought. “ _Modern_ Magic?”

Pippa rises and comes to stand before her, eyes shining with what Hecate suddenly thinks - her stomach tripping on itself - might just be love.

“Do you know why I started Pentangle's?”

Caught off guard, Hecate shakes her head and stares down at her fingers in wonder at the familiar crackle of magic between them.

“Because of you.”

Her head shoots back up, “Me?”

“I wanted a place where no student would be treated the way you were in school, Hiccup. Where every child had the right to grow into their magic at their own pace, at their own capacity. Where mistakes were only something to learned from, not something to be punished for. I watched for years as Miss Broomhead tied you into knots, as the other students ground you beneath their boots. I should have done more to protect you.”

Hecate feels her breath catch, “You did _everything_. You were _everything,_ Pippa. _”_

“It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to stop you from hurting.” Pippa’s eyes glisten and she comes a little closer. “I wanted to create a space where every student could grow up to be fearless and confident. No matter their background. No matter how big or how small their ability.”

The balloon around her heart expands further and she feels her new-found magic tremble within her, at the same instant a thought makes her stomach plummet. “But I never grew up to be those things. I’ll never _be_ those things.”

“No,” Pippa murmurs, taking a step forward until they're nearly toe to toe and ghosting her fingers across Hecate’s cheekbone. “You’re my Hiccup. I wouldn’t have you any other way. I love you. Just as you are.”

“Love.” That word again. That _word._ She closes her eyes and reaches out, blindly fumbles until she finds Pippa’s hand. And _Focuses._ And _Feels_.

All around her is a web of magic, flowing and moving within the air. Through all the books, and tables, and chairs, through the very castle walls. Very, very gently she pushes, feeling her way. Moves a thread here and a thread there. Stops to feel how the magic ripples, stops to feel how Pippa’s hand feels clasped within her own.

Suddenly there’s a release within her, like something stoppered away has finally been set free, and she gasps as the magic pulses out around her for a moment before settling back into the old familiar hum within her veins.

From upstairs there come the sounds of cheers and hollers and the explosive banging from the entry hall falls quiet. She opens her eyes and Pippa is grinning at her, soft and beautiful and - and -

The library door flies open and Ada bustled through, Dimity and the others hot on her trail.

“Hecate? You did it! You did it!” She bounces on her toes and smiles around her tears. “I had the stone on my desk and it’s light has been restored! How ever did you reverse the spell?”

Hecate feels her cheeks tinge pink and shly looks across at Pippa at a loss.

“Oh - oh! Miss Pentangle? I didn’t know we were owed the honor?” Ada crosses and dips her a Well Met which Pippa returns.

“The Council sent me to lend a hand, but by the time I arrived, Hecate had it all quite sorted.” She smiles that smile at Hecate, the one where her nose crinkles up just a little, the one that has always make Hecate’s heart and stomach turn a collective summersault. She blushes further.

“It seems all is once again in order, Headmistress.” She meets Ada’s eyes squarely and returns the title to her without preamble.

Ada bounces on her toes a bit more and laughs in merriment. “Well, I say this calls for a late night feast, wouldn’t you say? Dimity, will you go down to the kitchen and alert Miss Tapioca that we will all be assembling in the great hall for as grand a celebration as she can whip up at a moments notice?”

Dimity winces, and Hecate privately agrees that whatever last minute feast Miss Tapioca could cook up is surely less than celebratory. Dimity daringly pulls a face at Hecate as though reading her thoughts, but heads out in jolly spirits.

From that moment on it’s all of a blur. The students pour back down stairs, some in their night things, some still dressed, all in rockous spirits, hugging and laughing and shooting off spells just for the sake of it, and even Hecate can’t find it within herself to chastise them. Not when there’s something warm and glowing and Pippa shaped within her now instead.

And although Pippa is immediately swept off to one of the tables by Felicity Foxglove for an interview, and although a good many girls are crowding around her, trying to get close, blushing and talking a mile a minute, while their hands pull on their braids and smooth their skirts, Hecate can’t find the space in her heart that usually rears back at such a scene. And when Pippa looks up and catches her eye, throwing her a dazzling smile and a wink, Hecate can’t seem to care about anything much at all.

It’s hours before they get the sugar-strung girls tucked up into bed. By the time all has calmed, Miss Bat is snoozing in what’s left of her pudding and Dimity and Miss Mould return from rounds, dragging their feet and looking exhausted.

Pippa, who's found her way back to Hecate’s side hasn’t left it most of the evening, reaches over and subtly brushes her fingers across the inside of her palm, making something warm and pleasant flare low in her stomach.

She takes the distraction allotted by Mister Webb trying to wake Miss Bat, and Ada flagging down Dimity and Mould for a last report, to transfer them up to her chambers and away from prying eyes. Though when they reappear and Pippa’s biting her lip, looking at Hecate in a way she can’t quite read.

“I apologize. I know you dislike to be transferred without notice.” 

“Actually, I didn’t mind this time.” Pippa gives her a _look,_ and she thinks she can interpret that one just fine.

“I should also apologize, then, for how I acted regarding your magic. Modern magic.” She dips her head and studies the rug, shamefaced.

“Well. I know another form of magic,” Pippa murmurs, “if you’re open to it.”

And Hecate jerks her head up, suddenly realizing just how close Pippa is. She can nearly count the freckles that dot across her nose. And Pippa moves closer still and - and closer still -

And, yes, she thinks - much much later as the sun is just rising through the drapes of her bedroom, and Pippa’s skin is warm against her own where they lie breathlessly tangled in her sheets - there is another form of magic.

And she wants to learn it all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you dismantledrose (CCNSurvivor) for freaking out with me on the regular about the ultimate dream-fantasy of Pippa swooping into save the day when the Founding Stone goes awry. Glad we're going to get Julie Hubble for sure, but ugh, to have both HER and Pippa on screen. I feel like they have to do that at some point. Please.
> 
> Thank you foxx-queen (littlelamplight) for the idea that Hecate would be frightened if Pippa showed up to help, fearful that she'd lose her magic too. UGH. My poor shriveled heart. <3


End file.
